


Lost Eyes On The Inside Found

by GardenOfArt



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), Supernatural
Genre: AU, And I bare my soul to you, Angst, Baby, Blood, Bobby is a father, Castle (mentioned), Creative Liberties, Dark, Gen, Karen is a mother, Not Beta Read, Tagging as I go, We suffer like men, dear reader - Freeform, not wincest, other character mentions - Freeform, things that go bump in the night - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27633514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GardenOfArt/pseuds/GardenOfArt
Summary: Are you waking up afraidAre you brave enough to glance behind the curtainTo use the eyes insideHave you felt them in your sleepHave you seen them in a vision that's uncertainA dream outside your mind - Aviators "When Our Bodies Wash Ashore"
Relationships: Bobby Singer/Karen Singer, Bobby Singer/You, Dean Winchester/Reader/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/You, Dean Winchester/You/Sam Winchester, Karen Singer/You, Sam Winchester/You
Kudos: 2





	1. First Taste

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: Changed the title from “Lost and Found”
> 
> I. Am. A. Traitor.
> 
> I told myself not to start any more new series because it would distract me from finishing my other works but I recently got back into Supernatural then....one thing started to lead to another... And this is where I am now.
> 
> I haven't seen the last few seasons and I totally forgot where I was (I remember zombie Karen tho) so my deepest apologizes if I get a few things mixed up (I'm currently reading sparknotesXD) or if characters seem a bit funky. While this is an AU, this will mostly take place in the world of Bloodborne with tiny sprinkles of Supernatural here and there.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legend:  
> ✬✫✬✫✬✫✬✫ (Change scene)

#  ☼†☀†☼

He wasn't sure where he was as he looked around and took in his dimly lit surroundings. He found himself alone and in some musky, old alleyway. The air felt heavy and a thick mist clouded the ground making it near impossible to see where he was stepping. Wet grovel cracked under his feet as he took slow, careful steps forward with his hand resting along the brick wall, running his fingertips under the rough and bumpy stone.

He heard crows in the distance 'cawing' that echoed slightly from where he was. Stray, mangy dogs roamed around the area, growling as they moved from place to place. At a cross way, one crossed his path but didn't take notice from him as it wobbled from side to side, nothing but skin and bones. The man could hear people talking, their voices carrying between the alley as he made his way closer and closer to the sidewalk. Flickers of light from burning candles wave and die and an indescribable smell from incense makes the man pause before continuing one. It felt as if he were stepping out of the dark and into the light, as cliché as that sounds. Though this time, it had brought him a new definition as the moon, large and bright, shone down upon him.

Familiarity starts to trigger in some parts of his brain though he wasn't sure why, he's never been here before; not to this old looking place that seemed to scream at him "Look at me! I am without technology!" He vaguely wonders if he’s been put in a different time again but can only recall finishing a hunt with Dean and then headed to a hotel for the night. He spotted several burning piles of blackened molds, statues wrapped with chains and pulled down into broken husks and piece on the ground. If he wasn't mistaken, he heard a loud and dull thud banging against a door as if someone were kicking against it and the loud cackling of women in a nearby house.

The visitor took in the red fire lit sky, tress burnt and dead in the distance, buildings destroyed and decaying while a rare few where lit from the inside.

He traveled out into the open puddles of rain and... blood?

The sound of a bell tolling in the distance broke the rabble as he knelt down to examine the darker colored puddle. His fingers dipped into the cooled liquid and as he pulled away, he felt his gut begin to clench uncomfortably.

The liquid on his fingertips came away thick and heavy...

"You're not wanted here, you plague-ridden rat!"

The visitor's body moved on instinct, his legs rolling him to the side as years of training and hunting had really done wonders to his five senses. He shuffled onto his feet, planting himself firmly on the ground as he took in the sudden appearance of this new stranger.

It had surprised him - somewhat - to see an older looking human male wielding a pitchfork and torch. He felt nothing out of the ordinary (well, _his_ normal) but caught the scent of charcoal and blood coming from him. The visitor felt no angelic aura or demonic powers so it couldn't have been one of his families long time enemies.

So the question was: Who was this guy?

"H-Hey," The visitor spoke as he showed his hands to the man, hoping that showing himself unarmed would help deescalate this situation and lower his attackers guard from his farming tools. The man before him was older with graying salt and pepper beard. He wore a long dirty brown trench coat that covered most of his clothing from it being buttoned in odd places. The visitor could make out brown pant and what looked to be a dirty white button down shirt, he wore a hat that sat slanted on his head, covering his right eye. He gripped his weapons tightly as his breathing came out ragged and hoarse, he glared at the visitor before him.

The visitor tried once more to ease the man, "My name is Sam, wh-"

"Beast!" The man cried out, his lips pulling back to show the gritted teeth.

"A foul beast!"

"What-?!"

"Begone!"

He charged at Sam, his pitchfork reeling back before lunging forward, putting all his weight into it. Sam jumped back again but felt the sharp ends of the pitchfork tug on his shirt. The old man yelled again, rearing his torch hand back and thrusting it forward.

Sam cursed, the pitchfork holding him in place as the torch scraped against his collarbone. He winced as her pulled back, his shirt ripping with three small, torn holes in it.

"Hey, I'm not here to hurt anyone!"

But the old man didn't listen, too far gone and busy swinging his weapons around like a lunatic.

Sam backed away, keeping his attention on the bewildered old man that he didn't notice a shadowy figure coming up behind him.

"I said; I'm not here to hurt you!" Sam yelled before bumping against another body. He froze, his eyes growing large as the thought of backup flashed in his mind with a giant red flag.

His heart leapt up in his throat as a gloved hand reached up and gripped his shoulder, _oh shit_ , Sam thought frozen still as the old man in front of him advanced upon him, mumbling and yelling at random like a mad man. His body gave a small shudder as the figure behind him shifted, Sam could feel his fight and flight senses going off, his blood pumping through his ears. His body tensed further, hurting whenever he took a quick breathe in as his mind raced with thoughts on how to get out of this situation. He decided with a mental nod to himself to make a hit and run as he's suddenly pushed to the side.

The young Winchester fell in a heap with a pained groan as gun shots rang through the air, a strong gust of wind blowing past him. A shocked yell caught Sam's attention just as he started to get his baring's together. He rolled onto his side, pushing himself up by his hands and looked at the scene before him with wide eyes.

There, just a few feet away, stood the new stranger who hovered over the old man, laying on the ground with his weapons scattered on the ground. His lit torch distinguished in a large puddle with the moon directly in front of them. The old man raised one hand up while using the other to scoot himself away from the stranger dressed in a long, black cloak.

"Please God..."

"H-Hey..." Sam called out softly while getting up slowly. "He didn't mean anything by it, right?"

Both of them didn't pay Sam any attention for a second as they seemed to glare at each other. The old man growled at the stranger,

"It was you! You and your kind infested our homes, you beast!

"You monst-!"

"Wait!"

Sam's cries went on deaf ears the stranger brought out a large curved blade from the back holster and plunged it deep into the old man's stomach with such force, Sam thought he heard the cobblestone from beneath them crack and burst.

There's many things that Sam could stomach; many things that he's seen. He was stuck in Hell for Christ sake! But the blatant murder that just happened before his eyes hit him differently for some reason.

Blood sprang out like a fountain from the old man's wound coating the stranger's front in red that glistened under the light of the moon. He groaned weakly, his body twitching violently as he convulsed, gasping for air and coughing up blood.

The Cloaked Man remained unbothered as he watched his victim take his final breath, his blood pooling on the ground below him.

"What...?" Sam gasped softly, his eyes shifting from the corpse to the Cloaked Man several times. "This is insane..." He muttered as he took a slow step back. "He was - and you..."

The Cloaked Man tilted his head in Sam's direction, tuning to face him. He pulled his weapon out of the old man with a sickening sound, the body arching up before plopping back down with a wet plunk.

"This isn't real..."

He swung the blade, the blood splattering along the pavement as he sheathed it back in its place. He took a step forward and Sam took a step back in response. The Cloaked Man paused, the leather of his outfit almost completely red and dripping. He reached out, his black leather glove hanging in the air as if asking Sam to take it.

But Sam didn't. He didn't wanted anything to do with this guy and he would find someone less murderous to help him.

The Cloaked Man clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth before reaching back behind him and pulled out a long barreled gun from his waistband.

Sam, despite all his years of hunting, turned his back to the guy and took off running, the sound of a gun being shot scared him so much, the shot thunderous and powerful boom than he's very heard. He tripped over his own two feet as a body slammed against his back, knocking the both of them down. Sam landed hard on the ground, his chin scraping along the gravel as he groaned in pain. His mind spun in circles, his vision blurry as the Cloaked Man straddled his hips, forcing him to turn on his back as his hands trapped Sam down by his shoulders to keep him in place.

He leaned down to Sam, a dirty scarf covering the bottom half of his face.

 _"You shouldn't be here,"_ A voice rang out in Sam's mind, he didn’t have much sense to try and distinguish the gender too busy staring into the Cloaked Man's eyes, bright and clear despite everything that was going on.

"Wha-?"

_"You shouldn't be here, Man of the Waking World."_

"Huh?"

_"Wake up."_

"What are you-"

_"Wake up, now!"_

"Sam!"

Sam gasped, shooting up in bed, his hands clutching at his blanket that hand settled on his lap. He panted loudly with sweat forming on his forehead. His eyes darted around, the darkness of the room not helping much as he tried to find the source of the voice.

The light to the hotel room flickered on, blinding him for a moment as a hand gently, hesitantly, settled on his shoulder making his flinch back. His head snapped to the side where the hand once was and saw his brother standing next to him in nothing but his sleeping shorts.

"...Dean?"

"Yeah, you okay, Sam?" Dead asked slowly as he took in his brother's appearance. "You woke me up with all that noise."

"What happened?" Sam asked, slouching in bed as his muscles ached, sore and tense.

"Was hoping you could tell me." Dead shrugged, stepping back to his own bed and sitting on the edge. He looked at his younger brother with a hard gaze, eyes narrowed as if he were trying to figure him out.

"You were tossing and turning, making noises." Dean trailed as he watched Sam look himself over first by twisting and turning his hands. "Was like you were trying to fight something off."

The younger brother took in a shaky breath after confirming that he was physically okay.

"Yeah, yeah." He muttered with a sigh.

"Just a bad dream."

"Anything about it, like...?" Dean trained against but purposefully letting Sam finish the sentence since he was the only one with any sort of visions (which were becoming a null topic).

"I don't know," Sam answered in short, turning his upper torso to face Dean. "I didn't recognize anything about it."

The green eyed hunter hummed to himself, his arms crossing over his chest before staring at something.

"Sammy," Dead finally said, his eyes squinting and his head tilting to the side like he were getting a better view of-

"You've got a bruise here."

There just above Sam's left pectoral that reached his collarbone was a large dark bruise that looked to be in the shape of a hand...


	2. Sadness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are you waking up afraid  
> Are you brave enough to  
> Glace behind the curtain  
> To use the eyes inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legend:  
> ✬✫✬✫✬✫✬✫ (Change scene)

#  ☼†☀†☼

After speaking with Dean that night, the older brother had informed Sam that he did not recognize any of the descriptions of the location and it was only then did he recall reading something about this in John's Journal.

Over the course of a few days, the bruise on Sam's chest had healed and the dreams continued to draw Sam in though these recent dreams were different from the first one. He was not in a hostile situation like the last, heck, he wasn’t even outside. A strong aroma permeated his senses and it was like all things creepy and murderous avoided the area. The nights that followed, Sam found himself in a garden of sorts, a lone, large tree hanging over him, blocking out a perfect full moon.

The second one had come four nights later, the setting was the same as the last though the location was different.

He looked to be in some sort of ruined church, though it wasn't your typical church by any means, from what Sam could tell. Large jugs, jars and bowls littered the place, the middle of the building was completely barren, open with a single ray of light that shone through a broken part of the roof.

Sam slowly made his way further into the building, staring at the jars the lined the walkway the further he went. There was a woman sitting off to the side, dressed in a red Victorian styled dress. Before her kneeled the guy from before, the Cloaked Man, with her hand gently place on top of his.

The woman began to speak through Sam was too far to hear so he walked closer to them, noticing that there were other people scattered around the room. An old man sat at the wall, perched over a pedestal and an old woman at the corner, looking through the jugs and jars. There was a figure draped with a deep red robe hutched over humming a song that Sam didn't recognize. None took notice fo him.

As Sam drew closer to the woman and Cloaked Man, he vaguely noticed a younger woman in the back, hiding behind a pillar and peaking out when she thought no one was looking.

"-This place is safe. Thank you, darling. I'm in your debt."

Sam turned his attention back to the couple before him, realizing that he had crept closer to them so that he was directly behind the Cloaked Man. He watched silently as the Cloaked Man reached up with his free hand and gently settled it upon the woman's hand that had clasped onto his own. The young Winchester watched with a nagging feeling, his gut telling him that this was suppose to be a private moment between the two...

The woman smiled softly at the man kneeling before her, completely ignoring Sam's sudden presence.

"I'd like to tender my thanks, but I haven't much to offer..." She spoke and titled her head to the side. "All I can give is my blood. But..." She paused then, suddenly looking unsure of herself. "But would you even take my blood?" She looked at the Cloaked Man. "The blood of a whore?"

Sam shifted from foot to foot, feeling uncomfortable as the two seemed to clearly be in their own little world. The woman smiled politely at the figure kneeling to her, a silent conversation happening that Sam couldn't hear despite his proximity. Gently, she slipped her hands from his, her fingers trailing lightly over his hand as she reached up, pulling a small red vial from her bosom. She held it out to him with a light grip.

"May this help keep you safe, darling."

The Cloaked Man dipped his head at her before reaching up. He gently pulled the vial into his grasp, his leather gloves crinkling as he tightened his grip.

A baby's cry caught Sam off guard, causing him to look around and he came upon a new scene when he turned around.

He was no longer in the church, just a small room with a single candle burning. Sam looked around, trying to find anything familiar but could only see more of those jars and jugs lining all four corners of the room. The baby continued to cry out but no matter how hard he looked, Sam could not find it. He walked over to a corner, moving the large jugs out of the way, knocking some over in his frantic search.

"It can't be..." A woman gasped, sobbing and chocking on her tears.

He froze then, a large vase in his hands as he stared at the wall in front of him.

The infants cried grew louder.

"This can't be happening!"

Sam's grasp on the pottery slipped, the vase falling and braking on the ground in front of him. He slowly turned around, spotting the woman from before huddled in the corner opposite to him. Her hands covered her face as she cried, her body shaking uncontrollably. There was something dark on the floor in front of her, twitching and shaking much like her. It was linked up to her by a single dark, thick cord.

Sam took a small step forward and then another, his mind racing at all the possibilities that could describe this moment before him.

The dark spot on the ground moved around and cried out and Sam felt his stomach bubble with hot bile as he stared down at the slug. He heard footsteps running behind him but Sam was stuck, too appalled to look away from the creature. That thing - that _slug_ \- on the ground was crying like a baby...

A cold chill phased through his body as the Cloaked Man appeared right before his eyes, phasing right through him. The man paused to look at the creature on the ground, his fingers twitching towards his gun as the sword on his back gleamed in the dim light. His black boots thumped against the ground as he made his way to the distressed woman in red with some reluctance.

"It can't be..." She rasped. "This is a nightmare!"

She sobbed into her hands, hyperventilating as crazed laughter erupted from her throat. Sam suspected that it was because of the shock and birth of... that baby. Her mind twisted and broken.

"D-Darling...!" She gasped loudly, her head snapping up to look at him. From where Sam stood, he could make out her tear stained face, dark eyeliner ran down her red flushed face.

"Please," She continued. "Please...!" She wailed.

Sam watched as the Cloaked Man tensed up. He turned to the side, glancing at the creature on the floor as it continued to cry and whine loudly, unabandonly.

The Cloaked Man faced the creature, his long cloak covered his entire body, his hat covered his eyes from Sam's view. He reached back and gripped the handle of the blade, pulling it out of its holster.

Sam's gut clenched as he watched in horror, the Cloaked Man raised his sword and pointed it downward in a stabbing position.

"Darling..." The woman hiccupped as she stared at him. She smiled at him though his back was to her.

She knew what he was going to do and she wasn't going to stop it...

"Thank you."

Sam's stomach dropped, "Wait!" He cried as the Cloaked Man plunged his weapon down and silenced the crying creature on the floor.

The woman screamed in pain and the world began to spiral around Sam, flashes of scenes - moments in time - popping up before his eyes, hurting his eyes and creating a deep thump in his head.

He saw the Cloaked Man fighting large, giant monstrous creatures and humans alike with precise, hard strikes from an array of weapons each one differing from the next.

Sam continued to watch as the scene faded like a gust of wind. His head began to give the constant throb of a headache coming in. He watched as the Cloaked Man kneeled before him, clutching onto a white blood stained ribbon. A large boar's body split open behind him.

Soon, multiple figure's appeared around them.

One version of him held onto a fallen old man and another sat in an old looking wheelchair. There were others who were posed similarly and Sam felt the need to give this man a recognizable emotion that could tied all these moments into one...

The Cloaked Man stood alone, his outfit covered in blood as he stared at the moon above.

Sadness...

Death seemed to follow this man around as Sam witnessed his grieving with every new version of the Cloaked Man that appeared.

So caught up in his thoughts, Sam jumped as a hand grabbed his left shoulder tightly.

_"You should not be here."_

A voice said from behind him. Sam threw himself forward and spun on his heel to see _him_ , the Cloaked Man, standing there behind him, his hand still out reached from where he grabbed him.

"What is all this?" Sam asked, motioning with his hands to all the images around them.

"Just who the hell are you?"

The Cloaked Man didn't say anything for a long while and Sam could feel eyes glaring at him from behind the rimmed hat. He slowly lowered his hand back to her side.

Feeling daring, the Winchester took a step forward, the Cloaked Man didn't react and Sam took another step forward.

"I don't know what's going on but I get the feeling that you need help." He caught the twitch that came from the Cloaked Man's fingers. "I can help you."

Before Sam could react, the Cloaked Man rushed forward, his hand outstretched again and his fingers gripping around Sam's face. He pushed him back, forcing the unexpecting Winchester off his feet on onto his back. He groaned, peaking his eye open through the wide opening of the Cloaked Man's hand and took in the color of his glaring eyes.

 _"Help me?"_ The Cloaked Man asked softly before his shoulders shook. He was laughing at Sam. _"Help me, you say..."_ He leaned in closer that Sam could feel his breath on his face even from behind the scarf that covered his mouth.

_"You can start by staying out of my head, outsider."_

Sam awoke with a gasp, sweat forming on his brow as he stared up at the ceiling to his room.

It was night out and the only source of light came from his laptop that remained on at his bed side. Several tabs remained open with them all pin pointed at old by gone era of abandoned ruins tied to the Victorian era.

Sam groaned, moving to sit up on his bed, his head giving him painful throbs as if someone was beating his head repeatedly with a squeaky toy mallet. He sighed roughly, his head dipping down to rest against the palm of his hand. His eyes slid shut as he recalled his dream - damn, was it a dream? It felt so real, Sam thought as he remembered the dull pain from where the Cloaked Man threw him on his back, with his fingers digging into the edges of Sam's face.

There was a single image that Sam remembered very clearly before the Cloaked Man had showed up; it was of a child holding onto a younger version of Bobby's hand...

A rapping on his door caused Sam to sit back up and look towards the wooden obstruction.

"Sam?" Dean's voice called out from behind it. "I think I found something in Dad's journal."

The younger Winchester swung his legs around the edge of the bed before making his way to the door. His hand grasped the doorknob, twisting and pulling it open.

Dean stood in front of the door, dressed in long sleep pants and a loose fitted gray shirt. He entered Sam's room, beelining to his brother's desk and took a seat on the computer chair. He set their father's journal on the desk with a plop as he crossed his arms over his chest. He rolled his head back to stare up at the ceiling.

"So," Sam began after a pause, unsure of what to make of his brother's clear display of emotion. "What did you find?"

Dean didn't say anything for a while as he crossed and uncrossed his legs, his eyes shifting from John's journal to random objects that Sam kept on his desk.

"Dean?"

"It didn't make sense at the time," Dean began suddenly, closing his eyes. "Dad didn't have much to go on but there's a page that's in there." He opened his eyes and looked over at Sam, "Just one page that he made where he talks about Bobby and-"

"His missing child..."

Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother before slowly nodding his head. He reached over and grasped the worn journal in his hand. He turned his attention to the book and flips through the pages before coming across the desired page.

Sam finds himself walking over to his brother, looking over his shoulder to see the scrawled wording of his father's hand writing and there at the top right corner of the page was a small, old photograph of Bobby with a... Little girl...

"Sam?"

"It's her..." Sam muttered as he took the journal from Dean's hands to take a closer look.

"I-I saw her in my dream..."  
Sam gently peeled the photo out of the paperclip and studied it, looking at the photo in wonder as the feeling of familiarity hit Sam.

He knew this girl somehow...

"She's Bobby's kid, went missing years ago." Dean spoke, breaking Sam's concentration. He looked back at Dean, a questioning look upon his face.

"I'll call up Bobby and tell him we're coming over." Dean said before getting up from his seat. He walked over to Sam and settled a hand on his brother's shoulder,

"I'll explain more on the way over.


End file.
